


Un-suspicious

by Robin_tCJ



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 15:20:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5544959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_tCJ/pseuds/Robin_tCJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the concentrated un-suspiciousness of the man that first made Spike suspicious of him; never one to be suspicious and let it lie, Spike decided to take part in some reconnaissance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Un-suspicious

  
  
It was the concentrated un-suspiciousness of the man that first made Spike suspicious of him; never one to be suspicious and let it lie, Spike decided to take part in some reconnaissance.  
  
Spike watched Gunn’s fingers move lightning-quick to punch in the Alt+Tab buttons on his keyboard the moment the lawyer noticed him in the room.  
  
“Don’t you knock, Spike?”  
  
Spike raised an eyebrow, making a fist and knocking on the wall. As his hand passed freely through the wall, he stared pointedly at Gunn.  
  
“You telling me you couldn’t politely ask one of the 50 people walking by my office at any given moment to please knock on this door for me so I don’t barge in on people doing work?”  
  
“What, you looking at porn, Charlie? And I wasn’t invited?”  
  
“Yes! Porn! I’m looking at porn. Now, go away.” Spike didn’t budge, only smirked arrogantly. Gunn noticed he had a stress ball in his left hand, and that his knuckles were white against his skin, so he launched the ball at Spike’s head, unsatisfied with the hefty thwack it made against the oak door.    
  
“Keep your balls to yourself, mate,” Spike said, not trying very hard to hold in the snicker.  
  
Gunn glared at him again. “Was there something I could do for you, or were you just coming to annoy me?”  
  
“Angel wanted to see you.”  
  
“Some reason he can’t pick up the phone and call my office?”  
  
“You know, Charlie, I asked him the same thing. He said if I didn’t get the hell out of his office he was gonna start singing Manilow.” Spike grimaced. “I decided an errand was the best course of action.”  
  
“Good idea.”  
  
Gunn hit a few more keys on his computer, and Spike surreptitiously tried to sneak a peak at what was on the screen. Gunn glared at him before shutting down the computer, with a smug grin that told Spike the man was perfectly aware that he needn’t protect his work station with a password, seeing as Spike’s fingers were incapable of hitting the “on” button with any measure of success.  
  
Spike followed him out of the office, and watched as Gunn haughtily strode down the hall. Spike grinned and headed off in the other direction, while Gunn continued on to Angel’s office.  
  


* * *

  
  
Spike made a habit of walking in on Gunn uninvited several times, but before he could sneak around the other man and see what was happening on his computer screen, he was always noticed and the screen would suddenly go dark.  
  
“Don’t know why you won’t just show me what you’re doing on there.”  
  
“It’s none of your business.”  
  
“Don’t make me convince Harmony to come in here and hack into your computer.”  
  
“Harmony can barely spell her own name, let alone turn on a computer.”  
  
“Guess you won’t mind if I call her then?”  
  
“I’m not doing anything anyway.”  
  
“Guess I’ll just have to ask Angel what the company policy is on computer use.”  
  
“Yeah, I can just see Angel rushing in here to scold me when  _you_  go in there and tell him I’m misbehaving.”  
  
“Wanna bet?”  
  
“Go bug Eve or something, Casper.” The smirk didn’t even falter on Spike’s face.  
  
“Oh, now I’m wounded. Remind me to send you the therapy bill.”  
  
“Remind me to kick your ass into next week the second Fred gets you materialized.”  
  
“The last bald black man tried to kick my ass wound up in traction, Charlie.”    
  
“The last bald black man tried to kick your ass wasn’t me. Now Go. Away.”  
  
“One of these days, Charlie, I’m gonna figure out what you’re doing in here.”  
  
“I’m not doing  _anything_!” On the last word, the pencil that Gunn had been unconsciously crushing in his left hand broke in half, and Gunn threw the pieces in Spike’s direction, watching has they bounced against the closed door and fell harmlessly to the floor just as Spike passed through into the hallway.  
  


* * *

  
  
Spike had finally managed to get in unnoticed. It probably helped that Gunn had a small tumbler of whisky on the corner of his desk, because Spike knew the lawyer had better reflexes than that.  
  
It looked like gibberish to Spike. Words like “java” and “css” and “bgcolor” that certainly weren’t words at all seemed to be the only things standing out on the page other than strange symbols and a shitload of parentheses. Of course, then Gunn hit a few more keys and the screen changed.  
  
Spike’s eyes widened a little bit, and he fought not to lean in a little closer as he saw a fairly decent graphic representation of Wesley on the screen. His eyes ticked to the back of Gunn’s head, and he wondered if maybe Charlie had a little British in him after all. Or wanted a little British in him. Or wanted to be in a little British. Or was it a big British, Spike wondered.  
  
He blinked away the mental images that was creating, and looked back at the screen. Gunn was typing nonsense again, and with a few more key-taps Spike was faced with a mirror image of himself. Or what would be a mirror image if he was visible in a mirror, he supposed.  
  
Spike swore that if the next time Gunn switched to a picture on the screen, it was a depiction of himself and Wesley over someone’s desk…well, he’d probably go have a wank, first, but he’d have a thing or two to say to the lawyer about office pornography.  
  
But the next time Gunn’s computer screen showed a picture, it was only Angel, and Spike made a concerted effort not to snicker when he noticed that computer-Angel’s forehead was even bigger than annoying-Angel’s own.  
  
Gunn nodded to himself and tapped a few more keys on the keyboard before reaching out for the whiskey tumbler and downing the swallow that was left at the bottom of the glass and pushing his chair back from his desk. Spike immediately slipped through the wall he’d come in, stealthily hiding himself from Gunn’s observation.  
  
He didn’t stop in the small office he’d gone into, simply kept walking until he was further down the hall, alone with his thoughts. He wasn’t sure exactly what Gunn had been doing. Yeah, making computer characters of himself, Percy, and Cap’n Forehead, but what was he  _doing_  with them?  
  


* * *

  
  
The next night, Spike managed to sneak in unnoticed again. If he wasn’t as righteously self-assured, he might have started to think that it was getting too easy to get in without Gunn seeing him, but he  _was_  self-assured, and he simply took up his perch behind Gunn’s left shoulder and watched the screen. He watched as Gunn typed more and more gibberish onto the screen, then watched in awe as Gunn finally switched away from the typing. This time, however, what came up wasn’t a picture of him, or Wussley, or Mr. Love-handles. It…was a game.  
  
A computer game. Spike watched, eyes like saucers, as Gunn started to play the computer game, in which everybody in the God-forsaken building was a character.  
  
“Oi, soldier! Looking for a little action?” Spike blinked as his own voice came shooting from the speakers on either side of Gunn’s computer.  
  
“Depends on the size of your weapon.” Spike jerked his head between the computer screen and the man sitting in front of it, trying to figure out whether the words had come from the Gunn on the screen or from the real man, himself.  
  
The rest of the dialogue was a blur to Spike as he pivoted and zipped through the wall, his face a mask of confusion. Had that meant what Spike thought it meant? Was Gunn…?  
  
No. That couldn’t be. Gunn wasn’t…but…how could Spike ignore the words that had been used? They could be interpreted either way, actually. He stood on the other side of Gunn’s office wall, wondering for long moments before finally deciding to slip back into the office. He was compelled to find out what the dialogue had really meant.  
  
He stood behind Gunn again and started to watch the game in front of him, but Gunn had switched it off in favor of the company’s demon case archives.    
  
Frustrated, Spike pivoted again and left the office. How was he supposed to find out what the game on the screen had meant if he couldn’t watch it?!  
  


* * *

  
  
Spike tried several times over the next few days to peek in on Gunn, to see if he was playing the game again, but was unable to catch him at it. He grew more and more frustrated, as well as more and more curious, and caught himself staring at the lawyer for long stretches of time, trying to figure out if Gunn maybe had a thing for him.  
  
He reasoned with himself that everyone had a thing for him, since he  _was_  Spike, after all, then argued that Gunn was straight as they came. He often caught Gunn staring at him, too, but usually only when Gunn caught Spike staring at  _him_ , so he just didn’t know!  
  
“What the hell are you staring at?” Gunn asked him one day as the two sat in Angel’s office, waiting for the older vampire to get off the phone.  
  
“M’not staring,” Spike lied.  
  
“You’re staring.”  
  
“How would you know I was staring if you weren’t staring at me?” Spike replied, and smirked happily at the dark glare Gunn shot at him.  
  
And Spike  _had_  been staring at him, but Gunn really had been staring right back. Spike was getting more convinced every day that he wasn’t misinterpreting the dialogue on the game. Gunn wanted him.  
  
Well, wasn’t that just interesting as all hell?  
  


* * *

  
  
Spike punched Angel full in the face, a wide grin splitting across his face.  
  
“What the hell did you do that for?!” Angel growled, after throwing a right hook into Spike’s jaw to return the favor.  
  
“Cuz I can,” Spike grinned happily, practically skipping down the hall.  
  
He’d been corporeal for all of ten minutes, thanks to the lovely, wonderful, bloody  _amazing_  Texan scientist on the 18th floor, and he headed straight for Gunn’s office. It was time to play a game.  
  
An hour later, Spike knew. It wasn’t that the Gunn character in the game had asked the Spike character about his weapon’s size. It wasn’t that the Spike character had “accidentally” walked in on the Gunn character in the shower and run away. It wasn’t that the Gunn character met up with the Spike character more than any other character in the game. It was that at the end of each level, the Gunn character went home and crawled into bed. With the Spike character.  
  
And got bonus points for it.  
  
Spike smirked, his eyes turning mischievous in the way that had always made Angelus blanch in horror.  
  
Spike shut down the computer, leaning back in Gunn’s chair. He crossed his ankles on top of the mahogany desk, fingers locked together behind his head. And he waited.  
  


* * *

  
  
Gunn’s eyes turned wary the moment he stepped into his office and spotted Spike seated at his desk.  
  
“What are you doing, Spike?”  
  
“Looking for some action?” Spike replied, his voice low and his mouth twitching at the corner.  
  
“Excuse me?” There was only confusion on Gunn’s face, which almost made it harder for Spike to keep a straight face. Oh, he was going to fuck the lawyer, but there was no reason he couldn’t get some amusement out of the deal, too.  
  
“Asked if you’re looking for some action,” Spike replied, his voice just as low and husky.  
  
“You finally went around the bend, didn’t you? Angel told me it was gonna happen, he said you weren’t stable, but…”  
  
“I’m not crazy. Soldier.”  
  
“What are you…” Spike watched gleefully as the little square peg slipped through the round hole in Gunn’s brain. Gunn’s eyes bugged out of his head, and he simply stared, open-mouthed, at Spike. With a leer, the vampire stood up, picking up the miniature magic eight ball on Gunn’s desk and tossing it up in the air a few times. Gunn watched the rise and fall of the ball mutely.  
  
“So, Charlie…” Spike started. Gunn’s eyes ticked to his, and in an instant Gunn was whirling around, headed back for the door of the office.  
  
Spike bolted, putting himself between Gunn and the door, gently closing it with a snick.  
  
“Spike… wait, you can close the door!”  
  
“Yeah. Fred cracked it. Not the point, Charlie.”  
  
Gunn stared at him.  
  
“Came in and played your game for a bit, Chuck. Amazing little things come out of that shiny head of yours, don’t they?”  
  
“Spike…”  
  
“Oh, no, no need to apologize. Just thinking… Games aren’t any fun if you’re playing…by yourself.”  
  
“Spike…”  
  
Spike tried not to snicker at the very broken record standing in front of him. The broken record whose hand was twitching toward the phone. No doubt planning to call security. Well, that just wouldn’t do…Spike probably didn’t want to get laid by any of the security guards in the building.  
  
Oh, well. In for a penny and all that rot, Spike said to himself, leaning forward and roughly pressing his lips to the taller man’s.  
  
Gunn remained still, stunned, for long moments as Spike’s lips caressed and danced with his own. He finally managed to find his bearings and pushed Spike away, eyes seemingly wider than before.  
  
“What the hell…?”  
  
“Shut up, Chuck. I’m horny, and I can finally  _do_  something about it, and that game…”  
  
“That game…”  
  
“I said, shut up,” Spike grinned, pouncing again, this time putting more power behind the kiss. He could have catalogued each moment that Gunn stopped convincing himself how stupid this was, until finally Gunn’s lips were no longer stiff and unmoving against his, but began to join in the dance.    
  
Spike pushed him back, so Gunn was pressed back against the edge of his desk, and let his hands begin to wander across Gunn’s back, his chest, his shoulders. Gunn put his hands on the desk on either side of his own hips for support, and allowed Spike to push his thighs open so he could press their hips together. Groin to groin, Spike pulled roughly at Gunn’s tie, yanking it off his neck without a care for the wrinkles that were sure to transpire. Then his nimble fingers were attacking shirt buttons, pushing Gunn’s blazer from his shoulders, getting closer and closer to actual skin. He gave an inner cheer as Gunn’s hands pushed his duster back and off, the soft swish and thump of the leather piling behind his feet.  
  
A small moan escaped from Gunn’s mouth, and Spike drank it in like a starving man. His fingers dug into the strong muscles of Gunn’s biceps, his tongue lapping at ridged palette and teeth, hips grinding and slithering.  
  
Suddenly Gunn wasn’t passive anymore, and the fight for dominance was on. Gunn pushed Spike’s shirt up, nails clawing at pale, smooth skin, ankles locking around Spike’s knees, plunging his own tongue into the vampire’s mouth.    
  
Hands shoved at clothing, the only sounds in the room the soft brushing of cotton against skin and the quiet whisper of moans. Gunn pushed Spike back, kept pushing, across the room until the soft leather couch in the office pressed against the back of Spike’s knees, forcing the smaller man to tumble across the cushions, Gunn falling on top of him, and their hands were more insistent now, not just pushing at clothing but  _tearing_  at it, fervently searching for the feel of skin on skin.  
  
Gunn’s hot hand wrapped itself around Spike’s cock, and his back arched at the sudden heat of it, the incredible pressure of that strong hand gripping at him, his mouth falling open as he gasped. Gunn was panting for oxygen, his lips ghosting across Spike’s extended throat as Spike grappled for control, fingers stabbing into the thick leather, grasping for purchase.  
  
Gunn started to stroke, then, and Spike’s hands gripped his shoulders, roaming roughly down his chest and back until they clutched at strong ebony hips, his mouth searching for more brutal kisses. Lips clashed and were caught in nibbling teeth, hands stroked and clawed and gripped, and it never seemed to be enough.    
  
Suddenly it was all gone and Gunn had slithered down his body lightning-quick, and Spike barely had time to register it all before his cock was veritably  _engulfed_  in a hot, wet mouth, sucking almost violently.  
  
“Fucking hell,” Spike growled, his hips jerking up powerfully of their own accord, and Gunn put a stop to that, pushing Spike’s hips down with all of his strength. Spike writhed beneath him, trying not to whimper as Gunn’s head bobbed up and down along his length, taking him in deeply, Spike’s cock throbbing at the back of his throat. A low moan from Gunn and Spike was coming, shooting thick and hard into the other man’s mouth, ears roaring with the sound of whooshing air and heavy swallows as Gunn took it all down.  
  
When it was over, Spike moaned weakly as Gunn crawled back up his body, nipping at trembling skin until their lips met again, thrusting his cock against the juncture of hip and thigh as Spike’s legs splayed loosely around him. He was grunting, gasping, and Spike held him tightly as he moved against him, one hand snaking down to grasp that long, hard shaft. Spike thought dizzily that he’d probably kill to have that cock inside him, but now was definitely not the time. A few quick strokes and Gunn was snuffling against his neck, his orgasm crashing through him with barely a sound, hot splatters against Spike’s skin.  
  
Spike generously gave Gunn a few moments to come back to earth before smirking. “So how trained are you in using your weapon, soldier?”  
  
Gunn gasped out a laugh before collapsing fully onto the cooler body beneath his, shaking both their bodies with silent laughter. Spike chuckled roughly before laying his head back against the sofa.


End file.
